Kiss Me, I'm Irish
by Meowser Clancy
Summary: Kate Callahan wears a shirt to display her heritage on St. Patrick's day, and gets a (pleasant) surprise. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

When Kate Callahan walked into work that morning, and removed her jacket, the first thing she heard was snickers.

"Hey," she greeted Reid. "What's up?"

Spencer Reid had also dressed for the holiday, wearing a green top hat with shamrocks attached and bobbing around his head as he moved it. "Many things," Reid said. "Helium balloons." He looked at the ceiling, and she followed his gaze. There were, indeed, festive green balloons stuck to the ceiling.

"What are they doing there?" She asked quizzically.

"Garcia got a bouquet from her boyfriend," Reid explained. "She was trying to get the balloon free, but the clip came loose and it floated up there. She just said to leave it."

"It's certainly a striking decoration," Kate said. "What do you think of my shirt?"

"It's cliched, but oddly appealing," Reid said, uberserious. "_Kiss me, I'm actually Irish." _

"I am," Kate said. "Third generation, at any rate. My grandfather came over after World War II."

"Really?" Reid asked. "What's the story behind that?"

"He watched a lot of war reels," Kate said. "Saw a lot of blonde, dewy eyed actresses and decided he'd had enough red hair to last him a lifetime."

"How did that work for him?"

"It didn't," Kate smirked. "He met my grandmother in the Irish part of town, and she was the most Irish woman you _could _meet."

"Temper, freckles and red curls?" JJ asked, coming up behind them. She wore a green sweater over a green dress. "Love the shirt, Callahan. I've always kind of wanted to be Irish, to have learned to step dance when I was a kid. Did you?"

"My mother tried to make me," Kate said. "It didn't work so well. I'm not sure how long it took for the cast to come off my teacher's leg..."

JJ burst out laughing. "Seriously?"

"Mostly," Kate said, with a wink.

They settled in to work, and Kate ignored the glances her shirt got, until an exuberant Garcia came rushing up to her as she left the ladies room.

"That shirt is adorable," she said, but it was her own outfit that was really fantastic. With green tights patterned with shamrocks, a green dress with green crinoline peeking out from beneath, and green _hair, _she was definitely dressing for the day.

"You are really dedicated to St. Patrick's day, aren't you?" Kate asked, taken aback. "You dyed your hair? Not that it doesn't look amazing."

"It's temporary," Garcia said, flipping it over her shoulder. "Doesn't it look amazing? Sam convinced me to do it, I wasn't sure."

"It really shows off your eyes," Kate admitted. "I'd never go green, but you look so cute. I'm really glad to see other people dressing for the holiday. In Andi Swann's unit, people wore white and black even on the Fourth of July."

"I once dyed my hair red, white and blue for that," Garcia admitted. "It looked amazing, but I was using natural dyes, you know, just vegetables and berries. Anyway, I ran through a sprinkler, and poof!" She waved her hands in the air. "It ended up purple."

"Oh, that's too bad," Kate said.

"I'll admit that the purple actually looked better," Garcia whispered. "Gotta go, I have work to do, but I love the shirt."

"Your outfit is amazing too," Kate called after her, turned and almost collided with Morgan.

"I might just take you up on that," Morgan said, scanning her shirt. "I would, at any rate, if I didn't have Savannah waiting for me to go to lunch with her. How do you like my shirt?" It was a kelly green dress shirt, nice and bright. "Is it green enough?"

"Definitely," Kate said. "Nice and bright."

"Good," Morgan said. "I want to surprise Savannah, she left early so I dressed alone. I'm pretty sure that she forgot, however, since I didn't see her take any green. I'm just hoping that no one reminded her, and I can take my prize."

"You want to pinch her?" Kate said.

"I was planning on substituting that for somethin' else," Morgan said, eyes glittering, and Kate shoved him. "What? I didn't say what I'd do!"

"You implied it," Kate said, fighting a grin.

"When do I not imply things?" Morgan said. "Gotta go."

Kate shook her head, grinning, as she watched him stride to the elevator, and went back to her desk.

* * *

The afternoon passed quietly, until Rossi came in at 3.

"Where've you been?" Reid asked him, when the older man finally walked through the bullpen.

"Late night," Rossi admitted. "I have a new girlfriend."

"TMI," Kate said.

"Not that kind of late night," he scolded, but looked secretly pleased that she'd assumed that. "We went out to a midnight showing of The Quiet Man."

"I love The Quiet Man," Kate said. "It's my favorite movie. One of them. But why midnight? Were any theaters open that late?"

"No, it was a private showing at Rossi Manor," he admitted, chuckling. "You weren't that far off, Kate, except for the fact that she had to leave early. By the way, I like your shirt."

"You look nice, too," she said. "You should wear green more often."

He touched the lapels on his green suit jacket, and smiled. "I don't usually feel Irish," he said. "St. Patrick's Day is a good day to make an exception for. See you."

"The whole team is wearing green, then," Reid said, turning back to her after Rossi left.

"Are we?" Kate asked. "I haven't actually seen Hotch."

"He's been trapped in his office the whole day," Reid admitted. "I won't tell you what he's wearing, if you haven't seen him yet."

Kate's gaze shot to the closed blinds of Hotch's office window. "Why? What's he wearing?"

Reid smirked and turned back to his desk. "You'll have to find that out for yourself."

* * *

A/N: More soon, probably later today.


	2. Chapter 2

Kate knew that she needed a game plan. Even though Hotch was rather easy going about admitting the team into his office, and definitely never barred his door, it still wouldn't do to just go barging in there just to see what he was wearing. She'd still need a reason.

So it was time to create one.

Plan A was to spill something on her shirt, say that she didn't have anything to wear and ask him for a jacket. But that was scrapped when she turned and saw her go-bag sitting, in plain sight, on her desk, and JJ or Garcia would have something even if it wasn't...

And this was her St. Patrick's Day shirt. She wasn't going to spill _anything _on it.

Plan B was to create a scene and get Hotch to leave his office to see what was going on, but she was too shy to do that. (Not that Kate was shy. She was just shy around her boss. Sometimes.)

As Kate wondered what to do, she freely admitted to herself that she did, indeed, have a crush on her boss. (Who wouldn't? He was tall, dark and handsome, with a great sense of humor...when it decided to appear...and an even sweeter smile, when _that _deigned to appear, on very rare occasions that happened not enough for Kate's preference.)

Her mind wandered, and she found herself cooking up scenarios to make Hotch smile, or even laugh.

Plan A: Turn on a funny movie.

Foiled: "Morgan, what kind of movies make Hotch laugh?"

"Charlie Chaplin?" Morgan said. "No, that was Gideon. I think Hotch likes Steve Martin sometimes. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," Kate chirped, hurried back to her desk and then realized that there were few circumstances that would have her and Hotch trying to find a movie to watch together.

Plan B: Tell a joke.

"Reid, would you rather win a million dollars or be whacked on the lips by a dead mole while you sleep?" Kate asked, coming up behind him and startling him.

"This is hypothetical, right?" Reid said. "Because I really doubt that you possess a million dollars, and I really hope that you don't have a dead mole."

"It's hypothetical," Kate said. "But note that I'm not denying possession of either."

"Okay," Reid said. "Well...the money, I guess. I don't need money, but I don't want a mole."

"Well, I hate to say it, but you won't get the money," Kate said.

"So that means I do get the mole?" Reid asked and Kate wilted.

"That didn't work, did it?"

"Was it supposed to be a joke?" Reid asked.

"Yes, but I think I explained away the humor," she said.

Plan C: Tickle him. Which was, by far, the most appealing plan on the list, but even more unexecutable.

She gave up on trying to make Hotch smile and returned to trying to think up ways to get into his office, rolled her eyes at her own cowardice and walked, not letting herself pause, straight to Hotch's door and knocked.

* * *

Aaron Hotchner got to work early on purpose St. Patrick's Day, due to a bet lost with Jack.

"I won't wear green unless you do," Jack said. "This shirt."

"No," Hotch said firmly.

"Come on, Aunt Jessica gave it to you!"

"It's not me," Hotch said.

"You aren't going anywhere today!"

"That's the assumption," Hotch said. "It is by no means a certainty."

"But you aren't meeting anyone important, flying anywhere that you need to look professional, and you have to or I won't wear green at all." Jack folded his arms.

"Fine!" Hotch exclaimed. "I'm putting it on!"

This was, of course, the day his car stalled and he had to phone a taxi after calling Reid and Morgan, and they had already left their respective residences and couldn't swing by to pick him up.

"Mister, do you mean that?" The driver asked, not hiding his smirk when he looked at Hotch's shirt in the mirror.

"Just drive, please," Hotch said, folded his arms over his chest and tried to block out the man's chuckling.

* * *

"I've never seen you dressed like that," Gina Sharp said, placing a hand over her grinning mouth. "Can I take you up on that offer?"

"No," Hotch bit out.

"Sad," Gina giggled.

* * *

"Oh, you dressed for the day after all," Garcia gushed upon colliding with him in the kitchen. "I didn't think you had it in you, sir."

"Didn't think I had what in me?" He asked grumpily, pouring a cup of coffee and striving to ignore her.

"The confidence to wear a statement like that," she said. "I dressed for the day, but even I have never worn such words."

"Thank you," Hotch said. "You are complimenting me, right?"

"Indeed I am," Garcia grinned.

* * *

Reid's reaction was the worst: he literally spat out the mouthful of coffee he'd just drunk.

"Good grief, it's an epidemic!" He blurted, trying to dab up the spilled coffee on his desk with his green neck tie, and promptly removing the tie when it got ruined.

"What do you mean, epidemic?" Hotch asked.

"I must have seen seven people on my way to work wearing some variation of that shirt," Reid said. "It must be popular. People are more desperate for physical—"

"Stop right there," Hotch said coolly, and Reid mimed zipping his mouth closed.

"The green really brings out your eyes," JJ called over, overhearing them.

"Oh, does it?" Hotch said. "Thanks so much for all the compliments."

It was at that point that Hotch stormed into his office and shut the door, not to emerge again until much later, after some...clever marketing done by Kate Callahan.

* * *

Rossi was the last to laugh at him, after having barged into the lion's den to relate the progress he'd made on his date the previous night.

"I really don't need to hear about it," Hotch said.

"Why, has no one taken up on your shirt's offer?"

"That's it, get out!" Hotch said, shoved the cackling older man from his office and closed his office blinds, desperately hoping that no one else would come in.

* * *

A/N: I know, this was not 'later today'. Hopefully, it'll be less time for me to get up the next chapter.

Reviews are so very welcome. I mean, I love writing but I'd like some reassurances that you guys also love reading my stories.


	3. Chapter 3

"Kiss Me, I'm Pretending to be Irish," Hotch heard a voice say, reading off of his shirt, and he inwardly groaned as he turned to face his now open office door. He'd been standing at the window, and studying a file, so he hadn't seen who'd come in, but hearing that it was Kate, steeled himself for teasing.

Kate was that type of person...wasn't she?

It was then that he saw what kind of slogan she wore, and blinked.

"Kiss Me, I'm Actually Irish?" He returned.

"Yes," Kate said. "I hope you can tell by my name that I am."

"You are," Hotch said.

For a moment, they just looked at each other.

"So, what brings you to my office?" He finally asked, moving to sit at his desk.

"To be perfectly, humiliatingly honest," Kate began, sitting in the chair opposite him, "I came in to see what you were wearing, since Reid wouldn't tell me."

Hotch barked out a laugh, shaking his head. "Somehow, that doesn't surprise me. I am surprised that you didn't think up an ingenious plot to get into my office without saying why."

"What can I say?" Kate said, tossing her head. "I'm honest like that."

"Yes, you are," Hotch said. "Another one of your boy scout qualities?"

"Yeah," she smirked.

"So what other qualities do you identify with boy scouts?" He asked, shuffling papers on his desk, but it was just for show, since he kept his eyes glued to her.

"Let me think," Kate said. "I'm already always prepared and honest. What else are the boy scouts? Their motto is just 'Be Prepared'. No honesty mentioned. Okay. Do a good turn daily."

"Do you do that?" Hotch asked, meeting her sparkling eyes.

"I like to think that I do," Kate said. "Yesterday I helped someone who'd just spilled coffee all over herself."

Hotch grinned. "And today?"

"I haven't actually done today's good deed yet," Kate said, her eyes widening. "I'll be in so much trouble."

"You can get Reid out of the BAU before I leave today," Hotch said amiably. "Because if he's still there when I leave, and still laughing at me, I might just empty that mug full of coffee on his head."

"No, you wouldn't," Kate said cheerily, bringing her feet up onto her chair. "You like him too much."

"I don't like being laughed at," Hotch said. "Or him telling everyone what I'm wearing so that they come in to laugh at me."

"You should," Kate said. "Because if I hadn't come in here...well, we wouldn't be talking like this."

"True, too true," Hotch mused. "I definitely don't wish this wasn't happening."

Kate's eyes softened as she looked at him. "I know what my good deed for the day will be," she said softly, reached for the coffee cup on his desk and threw it on his shirt.

The coffee was cold. It didn't hurt him, but he immediately stood up, desperately trying to mop it up. "What the hell, Callahan?"

"Take it off," Kate said, and before he could react, she tugged it off of him. "There. Now you're fine. The shirt is gone, you have an excuse to exchange it for something in your go-bag."

"That was your good deed?" He exclaimed.

"It was good-er than you'd think," she protested. "Because now I don't have an excuse."

"For what?"

"For this," Kate said, and, grabbing him by his bare shoulders, tugged him down and kissed him.

And he kissed her back.

It was fierce, playful, full of anger and then it turned to pure sensuality and his hands came up to frame her face.

There was a knock at the door, and Reid poked his head in.

"Hotch? Whoa!"

Hotch jerked away from Kate, who calmly turned to face Reid. "I wanted to say thank you," she told him. "Your snickering at Hotch is what made me come in here, and decide to obey the order on Hotch's shirt."

"But he's not wearing a shirt!" Reid protested, his voice going a bit higher.

"That's because I spilled coffee on it," Kate said calmly, as Hotch moved to his go-bag and took a red t-shirt from it, pulling it over his head.

"But—" Reid spluttered, then sighed. "Let me guess. Don't say anything."

"Say what you want," Kate said. "I have to go now."

Her cheeks were burning, even though her voice was calm.

It was a minute before Reid spoke. "You didn't handle that well," he began. "I don't know women very well, but I think you should go after her."

"I think you might be right," Hotch said, and dashed from the office.

Reid stared after him, a look of pure longing on his face.

"I want that," he said quietly. "Someone to chase after me."

"What's that?" Garcia said, coming up behind him. "Whatcha doing in Hotch's office? And where is he?"

"He had to leave early," Reid said. "He and Kate both had to."

"What a coincidence," Garcia said. "Unless it wasn't. Was it?"

"It was," Reid said, and Garcia deflated.

"Darn," she said.

* * *

Hotch only barely caught up to Kate, and she was already next to her car and about to climb in when he did.

"Kate!"

"What?" She asked, swirling to face him. "Yes, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it and now I've endangered your position at Unit Chief. I get it, Hotch. Sexual harassment. And it was entirely inappropriate."

"I just wanted to say," Hotch began, panting a bit from his run, "That you left before I could say something."

"What?"

"That I want to follow the order on your shirt, too," he said, leaned in and kissed her.

* * *

Needless to say, St. Patrick's Day became very important to them as the years went along. Each year, they'd try to outdo the other in outrageous, and definitely embarrassing, ensembles.

There was a year she got a shamrock tattoo on her arm, and it didn't fade off when it was supposed to.

There was a year that Hotch got propositioned to by every male prostitute he bumped into (they were on a case) for wearing very tight green leather pants.

There was a year that Hotch proposed to her when they were both wearing nothing but a green leprechaun hat.

And later that year their first child together was born, nine months to the day from the seventeenth of March.

Jack was delighted with his brother. They called him Patrick. Patrick Jason.

That was the best year.

_The End. Or, the Beginning. _


End file.
